


new routines

by nymja



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, freaky deaky force stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja
Summary: (and when the wind feels like the press of fingers against her skin? or what she’s buried starts whispering in her ear? these are the things she can ignore)
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey
Comments: 24
Kudos: 136





	new routines

Her mornings are busy.

Rey gets up before the suns. With the sky still dark purple, she nudges BB-8 awake with the toe of her boot and they move to the moisture conductors outside. Despite having lived in the desert for most of her life, Rey’s never seen one up close--they cost a small fortune and those on Jakku would have them stripped down and hocked before they could collect one drop of water. It therefore takes a few days for her to understand the parts--what panel lead to which wires, which wires weren’t working. How the moving pieces would all fit, once she figured out what was missing.

She spends a few hours on the machines, testing and toying and experimenting. The Force warns her just a little bit ahead of any major catastrophe, and so she’s avoided electrocution or chemical burns. The droids keep her company, their idle chatter giving her something to talk to when she feels the need and their silence keeping her centered when she doesn’t. And so Rey kneels in the sand, scarf and goggles covering her face, and does her best to fix things. 

(and when the wind feels like the press of fingers against her skin? or what she’s buried starts whispering in her ear? these are the things she can ignore)

-

Her afternoons are peaceful.

The heat near murders her the first week, before she’s able to get the in-house cooling units functional. Once they are, she turns her attention to indoor work. The sand gets everywhere, and it’s frustrating to try and sweep it out of every nook and cranny.

So more often than not, she throws out her fingers, calling to the Force to lift and disperse the dirt and grime that has buried the Skywalker residence for the better part of thirty years. The grains levitate, and for some reason she’s compelled to draw some to her palm. They pull in slow circles, gradually rotating above her outstretched hand. Rey watches them, lets them lull her mind away.

(she almost feels it: the weight of hands cupping hers, the warmth of breath on the outside of her ear.

 _being shattered apart and pulled back_ , he says in a bemused sort of way. _it’s the only way to build stars_ )

Rey keeps her hands cupped and pours the sand from them quietly outside of the threshold. “So you think you’re a star, now?” She asks nothing.

Rey gives a small smile, before rubbing her palms on the fabric covering her thighs and getting back to work.

(and not having answers to her questions? that’s something she can ignore, too)

-

Her nights are loud. 

Without the hum of ships, the silence of nature amplifies every other sound. When Rey tries to sleep, she’s kept awake by the chirps of insects, the wind howling, BB-8’s power cell and hums. 

(she always sleeps on her side, curled in on herself. and, sometimes, when she thinks she’s about to drift off and away, her exhale will arrive at the same time as someone else’s inhale)

-

Her dreams are quiet.

She usually sits on the ledge of a building she doesn’t recognize (it’s not _her_ dream, after all) one of her knees pulled to her chest and her other leg dangling above a busy cityscape--Coruscant, if she had to guess.

He sits next to her, hands in his lap and shoulders hunched forward. They face the skyline and almost-but don’t-touch. At some point, he always turns his face to look at her, and she looks back.

His eyes are always wide. His mouth is always fixed in a small smile. His throat always works nervously in the last moments.

( _it’s alright_ , she wants to tell him. _you can stay as long as you need._

but he doesn’t. because before the dream ends, she always sees him starting to mouth a word he never gets to sound)

-

Rey wakes up before the suns, and prepares to gather her multi-kit for another round of repairs.

Her mornings are busy.


End file.
